Heat
by worrywart
Summary: Inspired by artwork by Savva. New Orleans in the summer is hot. Severus Snape sees the embodiment of heat in his former apprentice. What happens when an invitation for a drink brings up the past?


Never has a picture spoken to me like the one posted by Savva on Facebook. Only one word kept coming to mind: Heat. Over and over again. As I let my muse steer me where it needed to go, she also kept a song in my head to keep me in the moment. See my A/N at the end regarding the link to the inspiration and what song has been banging around in my head for days now. I hope you like it

Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. She just let's us trespass.

* * *

Heat.

New Orleans was famous for it. It was sultry and sensual, and when he spotted her, he realized _she_ was the very embodiment of heat.

Five years had passed since he'd last seen her. At that time, she was just coming into her womanhood, changing from having coltish long legs, bony cheeks and bushy hair to womanly curves, confident stature, and a more controlled mane. He tore his eyes away from her lest they give away his desire.

He looked at the other women as he sat at his table nestled beneath the live oak, Spanish moss rustling in the occasional lazy breeze above him. They had dressed to be cool, had dressed to entice, and all failed badly. She had dressed simply and moved confidently and therefore, she was heat. She was sultry. She was sensuality. _Where had she learned it?_ he wondered.

Distracted momentarily when a waiter came to refresh his drink, he did not see her approach until she spoke, her voice almost as quiet as the breeze.

"Professor."

"Miss Granger," he responded. "Would you like to sit?" He indicated the chair across from him.

"Thank you, I would."

Severus stood and pulled the chair out, discreetly taking in her scent as she moved. He caught a whiff of musk and cedar wood with a hint of patchouli. It was intoxicating; he never remembered her wearing scent before.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked

"What are you drinking?"

"Whisky."

"I'll have that as well." Severus signalled to the waiter and ordered her a drink.

"How have you been, Severus?"

"I am well. I didn't realise you and Draco were friendly enough to be invited to a Malfoy soiree."

"Oh yes," she laughed. "Once I completed my apprenticeship with you, I went to work in the Ministry. Draco and I worked in the same department and we became friends. It was quite wrenching when he decided to move to the States."

"Narcissa complained to me for weeks about it."

"Are you close to Narcissa these days?" she asked hesitantly.

"If you mean close as in we are friends since our school days, then yes. Lucius' death three years ago was very hard for her, and I was appointed by Lucius to handle some of their business affairs."

"Oh." Hermione replied. Never had an 'oh' been so loaded with unasked questions

"There is no 'oh', Miss Granger," Severus stated, answering her unasked question. "If you'll turn your eyes to the dance floor, you'll see Narcissa happily dancing with the man she has been seeing for several months now. Draco's new wife introduced them."

Hermione looked over at the couple. Narcissa was tall and statuesque in her gown, and the man she was dancing with complimented her in every way; looks, height, carriage. "She looks quite happy."

"She is."

The silence between them grew. The ice in their drinks melted, the cubes clinking against the glass. Hermione suddenly stood.

"You are leaving?" Severus asked, slightly disappointed.

"Yes, I think I should." She reached out and caressed his cheek. "I don't know what to say to you anymore, Severus. I thought, five years ago, we had something together, but I was such a child then. I know better now. Your heart is yours to give, not mine to take."

She stepped away from the table, her fingertips slowly moving down his jawline as she moved. Just as her fingertips were about to leave his chin, he stopped her hand.

"Dance with me." He looked directly into her eyes which looked momentarily confused.

Hermione smiled. "All right."

They moved to the dance floor, Severus acutely aware that the eyes of most of the guests were upon them. The men in attendance gazed at Hermione with heated eyes. Their dates could see their lust and glared at the woman in his arms.

He put his arms around her waist. "You are a temptress, you know that? You outshined all your peers at school, and you still outshine them all. The only difference is now you aren't doing it to prove something. That makes you desirable by every single man in this room."

Hermione chuckled. "You are delusional; perhaps you've drunk too much today?"

"Tell me, Hermione. When you got dressed for this wedding, how much thought did you put into it?" Severus whirled them around the dance floor, his movements causing the tails of her skirt to wind and unwind from around her legs.

Confused, she answered, "Um...I only wanted to be cool, so I chose a simple dress and hair style. Why on earth are you asking?"

"I am attempting to prove that you are a seductress. All the other women in attendance dressed to impress, entice, to kill. They are miserable; their dresses are too tight, their make up too heavy, their countenances too desperate. You, on the other hand..." He looked into her eyes and did not finish his statement.

"I am what, Severus?"

"You are everything I want, Hermione. You were too young five years ago. Yes, you had lived a lifetime in a short time, but you had no life experience." They stopped moving in the middle of the floor just as the band began to play a slow, sultry song popular in America. "You're right; you can't take my heart. But I will give it to you now, if you still want it."

"Oh, yes." She smiled and moved closer again. "I do, Severus." She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against his lips.

He responded and for several moments only the strain of music from the band filtered around them, the rest of the world fell away. He finally pulled away. "I hear the Garden District is especially lovely in the twilight."

Severus felt her take his hand, and she began to lead him from the floor. He watched as her hips swayed gently in her dress. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few men look on with longing, and he smiled at his luck.

Heat.

New Orleans was famous for it. It was sultry and sensual, and when he spotted her, he realized _she_ was the very embodiment of heat.

And she was his.

* * *

_Alannah Myles' song Black Velvet just kept going through my head when I saw the inspirational art for this one-shot by our own Savva. I would love for the link to show up here, but FF apparently doesn't. PM me for the link. What a headache!  
_


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